


What We've Become

by Elhariah



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gay Male Character, Inquisitor Backstory, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-27 11:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10019087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elhariah/pseuds/Elhariah
Summary: The Inquisitor is not quite who they expected. Lots of fluff and banter in Skyhold and beyond as Dorian comes to terms with his building attraction to Lucian Trevelyan. But there is danger that lurks close to home that could end all they have worked so hard to build.





	1. The Inquisitor

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a Dragon Age fic. A series of moments between Lucian and Dorian as the story progresses around them.

All Dorian Pavus wanted was a glass of wine, but it seemed even the simple task of walking from his library to the tavern could not go uninterrupted by the antics of the Inquisitor.

He had one hand on the railing and was overlooking Solas’ rotunda when the Inquisitor leapt from the story above, landing sharply in a crouch. Despite the short time they had been at Skyhold, Solas barely flinched at the unexpected arrival. Probably testament to how often the Inquisitor was prone to leaping from impossible heights.

Dorian wondered if, when the Inquisition appointed Lucian Trevelyan, they had considered that he would come with these curious eccentricities. After all, not much was known about his life before finding him in the Rift. He certainly looked far too young to be saddled with the responsibilities of his new post. Far too handsome, too. Dorian was initially caught off-balance by Lucian’s pale blue eyes and hair that was almost impossibly blond.

He hadn’t spoken much to the Inquisitor past their initial introduction. And there was that little matter in Redcliffe. It was hard to get to know someone while battling with the demons of the future. It was only a matter of time before Lucian would call on his services, though.

No matter. A glass of the best wine Herald’s Rest had to offer (which was not that good at all) was in order.

Making his way down, Dorian kept an ear open for gossip and other chatter. He found one could learn a lot without asking anything at all, especially at Skyhold. With so many invested players in this game they were playing, it was useful to know what was being said about whom.

“Hey, Sparkler! Gracing us commoners with your presence?” Varric Tethras wiggled his eyebrows at Dorian as he strode past.

Giving the dwarf a falsely gracious smile, Dorian replied, “Trust me, it’s hard to resist your charms.” It was a temptation to ask how he had earned the nickname ‘Sparkler’, but he thought it was probably best to remain ignorant.

Varric chuckled. “Go have your wine. Maker knows it’s the only reason you leave your library.”

Not even bothering to argue, Dorian tipped him a salute.

***

The warm, comforting smell of yeast and smoky fireplace greeted Dorian as he walked into Herald’s Rest. There was a burst of raucous laughter from The Iron Bull and his men as the massive, battle-scarred Qunari made a gesture that hardly looked polite. 

Dorian found a seat on his own. He didn't really have people he wanted to associate with, though he also supposed being a Tevinter mage meant he would have a hard time finding people who wanted to associate with him. He did prefer the company of books these days, anyway. It was easier.

He was just starting his second mug of wine when a third mug slid onto the table and the Herald of Andraste joined it. “The mead tastes like nug piss.” he said, his accent strong with the influence of his noble upbringing. “It would seem I have one more duty to add to my list.”

“Could you perhaps source some Orlesian wine while you are at it? I shudder at the thought of this being my only option for the rest of my short life.” Dorian gestured to his mug.

Lucian raised an eyebrow, the one with a scar that cut across it and flowed down his cheek. “Ever the optimist, I see.”

“We may have stopped Alexius, but Corypheus is still at large and I am getting awfully tired of all this talk about the Fade. I prefer the term “realist”. If my life expectancy has been shortened, I at least would like better wine.”

“I will be sure to bring you along when we go to Val Royeaux, then.” Lucian chuckled a little. His fingers played along the texture of his mug and his ice-blue eyes grew distant for a moment.

Dorian had to resist the urge to fill the awkward silence with banter. His usual quips tended to lean toward the flirtatious and he didn’t want to risk Lucian reacting badly. Why was the Inquisitor even sitting with him? 

As if Lucian could read his thoughts, he said, “Well, I am sure you have better things to do than sit with the boss. We are heading out to the Hinterlands tomorrow if you would like the break from your library for a few days.”

“I look forward to gracing your part with my wit and charm, Inquisitor.” Dorian tipped his mug as Lucian rose and strode away without looking back.

Chuckling to himself, Dorian had to stick to his original impression of Lucian Trevelyan. Although easy on the eye, he was indeed odd.


	2. Pieces of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip into the Hinterlands and some insight into the Inquisitor.

There was something surreal about stumbling across a rift in the middle of otherwise benign countryside. Dorian had even been enjoying the outing up until that point. They had even managed to kill a few Venatori.

“And to think it was shaping up to be a fantastic day,” Dorian commented between casting spells from a safe distance of the demons. He was happy to fight, as long as he could avoid getting gore on his armor.

Lucian flicked a steady stream of lightning at the demons in between casting protective spells for the sake of Cassandra and Varric. “I thought you getting bored at Skyhold. Next time, I will take Solas!”

“And miss the pleasure of my company? Perish the thought!” Dorian cast a final, killing blow at the remaining demon while Lucian raised his hand to seal the rift. The blast of unnatural, green light was spectacular and the rift closed as if nothing had been there in the first place.

“That will never cease to amaze me.” Varric strode back to the two mages, slinging his bow, Bianca, back over his shoulder.

Cassandra Pentaghast was slightly winded as she walked back, her armour and face coated in demon juices. “I hope that was the last one in the Hinterlands. We have much work to do elsewhere.” The Seeker pulled off her helmet and sat down on a nearby rock to clean off her sword.

The party had been out in the Hinterlands for a few days and Dorian was starting to miss Skyhold. It wasn’t as if he thought it of it as home, exactly. But he was comfortable there. And there was a warm, soft bed.

It had been educational being out with the Inquisitor and seeing him at work, however. Lucian was quick and efficient. He was also a capable mage who had also chosen to specialise in necromancy. Dorian had observed the skills Lucian had at Redcliffe, but it was different when they weren’t literally fighting for the future of their world. Cassandra and Varric, both strong fighters, seemed only too happy to defer to Lucian when it came to tactics.

Lucian ran a weary hand along his face. “Let’s head to camp. I could do with a wash and something to eat.”

“Maybe we will run into a bear on the way there. I am in the mood for some bear stew.” Varric said, hopefully.

Pulling a face that was both long-suffering and disgusted, Cassandra stood and sheathed her sword. Dorian could only guess at the history between these two, but if anyone needed a good shag to break the tension, it was them.

***

Back at camp, it wasn’t long before Lucian had kicked off his boots and was sitting beside the fire, digging his toes into the grass.

“What is it with you and shoes? Do they offend you?” Cassandra asked him.

Lucian chuckled. “I like feeling the earth under my feet. It grounds me.”

“I suppose that is part of being a mage?” Varric was preparing their meal happily. As fate would have it, they did run into a bear before reaching camp.

Dorian rolled his eyes. “I am a mage and I detest being out in nature. The only reason I am here is because you need me to keep you alive.”

This earned him a laugh from the Inquisitor, who said, “Honestly, I am not a fighting man. I do this because the Maker willed it to be so. My interests before all this were in potions. Specifically those used for treating illnesses.”

That explained why Lucian was so fanatical about collecting every little plant and herb. It didn’t explain his natural proficiency for fighting. Dorian gave him a surreptitious glance. He wondered if he resented being the Herald of Andraste. It was hard to tell, under the general good demeanor and often eccentric antics.

“You were a healer by trade?” Varric asked.

Lucian’s face shifted slightly. “No. Being born into a noble family, those sorts of options were not exactly on the cards. But I was good at disappointing my parents. After all, I am a mage. They would have preferred me to specialise in swordsmanship. Which I did do, for a time.”

“It is hard to resist the calling of magic if you have it in you.” Dorian added, not saying exactly how much of what Lucian said he related to.

Cassandra cleared her throat. “I have known worse mages than you two.” she admitted.

“Careful with the sentiments there, Cassie. People might think you are going soft.” Varric said, teasingly.

This sparked some more banter between the Seeker and dwarf.

While they went off at each other, Lucian’s eyes locked with Dorian’s. It was like he knew exactly what was going on in Dorian’s head and that scared him.

“Thank you for joining us. I may have found some decent wine yesterday. Of course, I am not an expert and would need your opinion.” Lucian’s mouth curled up at one corner, almost shyly.

“My opinion is one thing I am not afraid to give, Inquisitor.” Dorian said before considering how that would sound.

Seemingly oblivious to how that could be perceived, Lucian simply nodded.

Tomorrow, they would journey back to Skyhold and Dorian would be able to wash away the dirt and thoughts that had been forming in his head.


	3. Courtyard Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swords are drawn and Lucian proves there is more to him than just flinging spells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to get an idea of my mood for this fic, give "No Light, No Light" by Florence and the Machine a listen. :)

Dorian was taking a stroll around the Skyhold grounds when a commotion by the stables drew his attention. A significant crowd was gathering, including Leliana and Josephine Montilyet.

“I hope you are not doing something exciting and forgot to invite me?” Dorian said as he approached the two women.

Josephine gave a sigh worthy of her Orlesian roots. “It would appear our Inquisitor is a fool and our Commander even more so.”

“The Commander made the mistake of insinuating that the Inquisitor didn’t understand the intricacies of melee combat. Lucian suggested he find out first-hand exactly how well he does understand with a friendly duel.” Leliana explained, narrowing her eyes. “I suspect Cullen only agreed because he was getting restless delegating instead of having a sword in his hand himself.”

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “Wait… this is a sword fight?”

“Foolishness. And a waste of time. But let them play their game.” Leliana said.

Judging from the crowd, word had spread quickly and there was a pullable excitement in the air. Lucian stood in the middle of the crowd where a small arena had been marked out. He had a sword in his hands, was clad in light armor and was warming up, using the weight of the sword to stretch out.

Cullen was dressed similarly and was standing off to the side, where Cassandra was saying something to him. Her features were stern. While Dorian did question the sense behind this display, it wasn’t hard to miss the shine of anticipation in the Commander’s eyes. 

Both men were using the lighter, blunted swords that Cullen gave his troops to spar with. They would not inflict that much damage other than a good bruising.

“Sparkler! There you are. I didn’t think you would be missing this.” Varric joined Dorian's side with a tankard of ale.

“A chance to see our fearless leaders make fools of themselves? There will be gossip about this for weeks!” 

Varric gave Dorian a knowing look. “That’s not exactly what I meant. Writers observe things, you know.”

Opting to feign ignorance, Dorian turned his attention back to the makeshift arena. Cassandra was standing between Cullen and Lucian and was outlining the rules. “No stepping out of bounds. No contact to be made with anything other than your swords. No biting, kicking, scratching…”

“We are not children, Cassandra. Can we get on with this?” Cullen shifted his weight from foot to foot and lowered into a fighting stance.

Lucian was grinning too, twirling his sword in a display that was clearly meant for the crowd. Dorian tried not to notice the grace with which he moved and failed miserably.

“My money’s on Cullen. There is no way a mage can best a Templar in this kind of fight.” Varric said.

Dorian glared at the dwarf. “My money, if I were a betting man, is on the mage.” He remembered how proficiently Lucian conducted himself in battle and his hyper awareness of his entire party’s well-being. 

Just then Cassandra roared, “Engage!” and the two opponents began to circle around each other.

Cullen was quick to strike first, a low blow which Lucian parried with a sidestep. Their swords met with a satisfying clang. Varric was right. There was something appealing about watching two prime male specimens cross swords.

After the first contact was made, both men went at each other with enthusiasm. Cullen had more of an aggressive style, constantly stepping into Lucian’s space and forcing him into a position where he was focused on countering the blows rather than making offensive moves himself.

Lucian, however, made up for this by being quick on his feet. He moved like a dancer, stepping deftly away and around Cullen’s advances. Dorian got the impression that his training in his early years had been focused on both energy conservation and showmanship.

Even if he lost, Lucian had proven his point and had probably won a few more hearts.

Cullen looked like this was the most fun he had had in a long time. He was starting to appear a little winded, but didn’t slow down the onslaught of blows directed at Lucian. The crowd gasped as Cullen’s foot slid perilously close the boundary, but he quickly side-stepped back toward the center.

“Well, colour me surprised. Curly hasn’t gotten in a single hit yet.” Varric chuckled and swigged his beer.

Watching them, Dorian suddenly realised something crucial. “Neither has Lucian. Because he isn’t trying to hit Cullen. There… Cullen was wide open and Lucian did nothing!”

Suddenly, Lucian leapt up, Cullen’s sword cleanly passing under his legs. Cullen used the momentum to continue the swing and pivoted around, connecting with Lucian’s side as the Inquisitor was still recovering from his landing.

Lucian doubled over, the wind knocked from him, and held up one hand in surrender.

“Cullen is the winner.” Cassandra held up Cullen’s arm and then walked briskly away.

Lucian recovered and gave the other man a brotherly pat on the shoulder in congratulations. “Serves me right for challenging our Commander!” The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.

“You did prove your point though.” Cullen wiped at his brow. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

“I was raised to be a Templar. Before my powers manifested, I had lessons in combat and swordsmanship drilled into me. Then I set fire to the statue erected in my father’s honor, was sent off Ostwick Circle and the rest, as they say, is history.” As he spoke, his eyes met Dorian’s.

There was something knowing in that look. Dorian found it a little disconcerting, much like that moment in the Hinterlands when Lucian had done something similar. Dorian prefered to keep his connections with people on a superficial level. It was simply easier that way. But there was something so relatable about Lucian Trevelyan. 

He realised he’d been staring and quickly broke the silence.“Thank you both for the show, boys. I feel comforted knowing the Inquisition is in your capable hands,” Dorian quipped, his tone a little more sarcastic than intended.

To prevent saying anything more that he may regret later, Dorian spun smartly on his heel and strode back up to his library. Was it not enough that they were fighting for the future? Why did this man have to come along and make things even more complicated?


	4. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian faces his father with the help of the Inquisitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to develop now. Slowly, slowly.

Dorian was engrossed in a volume on the history of power in Thedas when a polite cough draw his attention to the Inquisitor standing beside one of the bookcases.   
“Do you have a moment?” Lucian asked. He had a note that he was worrying between his fingers.

“Of course.” Dorian noted that Lucian looked tired. He felt for him, having the worries of so many placed on his shoulders. It was this observation that kept Dorian from making any of his usual comments.

Handing Dorian the note, Lucian’s fingers brushed against his briefly, causing a jolt of electricity to shoot through him. If it was intentional, Dorian couldn't say.

A familiar sense of anger crept over him as he scanned the note. “It's from my father. The bastard. So he wants to chat with me? Probably to further emphasize my ongoing disappointments.”

“Go meet him. We live in the kind of times where there should be no regrets or things left unsaid.” Lucian’s eyes held concern and worry.

“Do we now?” Dorian gave him a fixed look. “Are you taking your own advice and going to Ostwick?”

Lucian frowned. “This isn’t about me, Dorian. I am happy to go with you, if you like.”

“You are just looking for excuses to spend time with me.” Dorian crumpled the letter. “Unfortunately, meeting my father is a pretty shit one.”

Stepping forward, Lucian removed the ruined parchment from Dorian’s hands. “Even if that was true, I don't know if I could bear the thought of you missing this opportunity. You have a chance to rebuild a bridge.” 

“My life and family affairs are hardly things you should be concerned about.”

“What if it’s you I am concerned about?” Lucian asked softly. “The journey to Recliffe can be perilous.”

“I am too pretty to die.” Dorian, paused, considering. Lucian was concerned about him? Because of his value to the Inquisition? Or was it something more? He didn’t dare dwell on the latter option. “Fine, Lucian. I am not thrilled about this, but let’s see what he wants from me.”

***

Lucian was sitting outside The Gull and Lantern. He was twirling a stick between his fingers anxiously. The odd flash of lightning emitted from the stick as it spun.

Dorian strode up to him, trying to keep his emotions in check. “Well, now you know. The enigma of Dorian Pavus has been solved at last!” 

“Dorian…” Lucian stood, his pale hair catching the last rays of the setting sun.

“Please don't say anything. This is embarrassing enough without false platitudes.”

Stepping closer, Lucian said, “There is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Oh? Some would see me as selfish or cowardly.”

Lesser men would not have stood up for what they feel in their hearts. Especially to family.” 

Dorian clenched a fist. “You cannot possibly understand this!”

“I really do understand.” Lucian insisted.

“Don’t presume…”

“They decided I would be better off as a tranquil!” Lucian snapped, cutting Dorian off abruptly. This was the first time true anger had crept into his voice.

Dorian’s mouth fell open, words failing him as the confession sunk in. “I assume that’s why you aren't in Ostwick anymore.” He said, once the shock had settled.

“Well, one of the reasons. After I left home to study at the Circle, I made the choice that I would be Trevelyan in name only. It was easier to remove myself from my father’s heavy-handed influence entirely.”

“I wonder if it would have been easier not being of noble birth. To think! Me, a commoner! Free to make my own choices about whose bed I grace with my presence!” Dorian sighed. “If only.”

Lucian looked towards the mountains, his eyes suddenly distant. “If only,” he echoed.

“Come. Let’s toast to shitty parents and drink the evening away!” Dorian didn’t think he could survive these emotions sober for much longer.

They found a table at the back of tavern. Lucian had a beer and Dorian was pleased with his wine. It was of Ferelden stock, but smooth on the palette.

“Something has been bothering me, Lucian. When you challenged Cullen, you had a few opportunities to hit him, but you didn't. Why?” Dorian would much rather talk about the Inquisitor than himself.

Lucian seemed surprised by his question. “Why do you think that? The Commander had me constantly parrying his attacks. Retrospectively, I am surprised I lasted that long.”

Running a considering finger along his mustache, Dorian didn't believe a word of that. “As I am not just dashingly handsome but also wise, I have concocted a theory.”

“Do tell.” Lucian rested his chin on one hand. 

“It is simple enough, really. You did it for Cullen’s sake. You knew it would make him happy.” Dorian smirked when he saw surprise flash in the other mage’s eyes. “You are selfless like that. Not a trait I share, but one I recognise.”

Lucian leaned back against the stone wall. “Cullen doesn’t like me. He feels I was given everything he had to fight so hard for. And that I threw it all away to be a spellslinger. Of course I wanted neither path, but the fates have their plans for us and all we can do is go along with the tide.”

“Fate.” Dorian let loose a single, bitter laugh. “Is that what is to blame for the world around us? For our lives? It must be so, because I couldn’t even run away. Not forever.”

The Inquisitor reached out to touch Dorian’s arm briefly. “It’s not all bad, is it?”

“No.” Dorian looked into those Maker-forsaken eyes that reminded him of midwinter lakes. It was so easy to get lost there. “ I suppose there are some good things. Your company for one.”

“I think there are few people who truly understand me. For most, I am the Herald of Andraste. A man who has risen from the Rift to save them all. The face of the Inquisition who has to make sure everyone’s interests are taken care of. But no one asks what my personal interests and dreams are. Or who I was before this mark on my hand took over my life.” Lucian downed the contents of his tankard. “But you… you and I are not that much different.”

“We are both nobles who are too gorgeous for their own good. With disappointed fathers and an interest in necromancy. Truth be told, you are a better person than I, Lucian.” Dorian felt something stir in his chest. Something that had lain forgotten for the longest time. If the conversation kept going along this vein, he was going to make a dishonorable man out of Lucian. And Maker knows he would enjoy every second.

Lucian stood abruptly. “Am I, though?” He slid some gold across the table. “Have another drink. We can stay at The Gull tonight and head out at first light. I need to get back to Skyhold.”

And, just like that, Lucian was gone.


	5. Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucian helps out the Commander of the Inquisition.

Lucian sat in front of his meticulously arranged potions table, his bare feet resting on his stool. He was busy decanting the last of a foul-smelling green mixture into small vials.

The sound of the waterfall outside was soothing and helped him focus. Maker knows, he needed it. The task of working with his collection of herbs and the delicate process of refining them for his needs was barely enough to keep a certain Tevinter mage from his thoughts.

Dorian was… impossible. In many ways. Their journey back from Redcliffe had been uneventful for the most part. It had given them the opportunity to chat. Mostly about magic and the differences between their tutelage. Neither allowed it to drift into territory that was too personal.

Dorian was still clearly feeling the sting of old wounds that had been reopened and Lucian was busy waging wars with his inner self. 

The heart was a strange thing. There had only been one person before who had managed to draw any sort of interest from Lucian. Hector was a fellow mage at Ostwick Circle. With fiery hair and an easy charm, he caught Lucian’s eye. He and Lucian had grown close in a short amount of time. They had snuck away to secluded places and had shared moments that still made Lucian’s heart ache.

Then Hector had fallen violently ill. Within a matter of days, he was confined to bed and was not taking visitors. Lucian found out a few days after his passing that it had been some kind of fever that caused the blood to leak from his body. 

Consumed by obsession he could share with no one, Lucian read volume after volume on healing and herbology. It was only months later that he found other documented cases of similar ailments to the one that took Hector’s life. Ailments that were treatable with the right potions.

Hector.

Lucian rubbed his temple and flexed his shoulders. Time had dulled the loss he felt. But it was a beast that was easily tempted, ready to rise at the smallest bidding.

His thoughts drifted back to Dorian. With his bronze skin and humour. A man who understood all too well the bitterness of disappointment. Someone who had, remarkably, stirred something in Lucian’s heart.

Did Dorian feel the same attraction? He knew it was the other mage’s nature to flirt, so that was hardly a good indicator. No, probably best to not think about it at all.

“Inquisitor?” Cullen strode into the Undercroft, breaking Lucian away from what was surely going to be a downward spiral of thoughts. “ You requested to see me?”

Lucian gestured to a spare stool set beside him. “Please take a seat. I wanted to speak to you about something and perhaps offer a solution.”

“Of course.” Cullen sat, shifting uncomfortably as he brought a hand up to his hair and ran gloved fingers through it.

“ You are no longer taking lyrium,” Lucian said. It was better to be as direct as possible with Cullen.

Cullen’s eyebrows pulled together. “Has Cassandra been talking to you? Is she concerned about me handling the withdrawal? I can't believe she would do that without consulting me!”

“No. No, it wasn't Cassandra. I saw your shaking hands. Moments when you seemed unwell.” Lucian slid the final vial into a pouch made from softened leather.

“That still doesn't point to lyrium!” Cullen snapped and then collected his agitation. “But of course. You know more than most would.”

“Indeed. It could have been me on lyrium. I thank the Maker for my magic manifesting when it did.” Lucian tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice and failed.

Cullen broke eye contact, glancing down. “ I am… somewhat ashamed. I thought I was coping well enough that it wasn't obvious. I assure you the Inquisition remains my top priority. I shall relieve myself from my post if you feel...”

Lucian cut him off with a raised hand. “ You judge yourself too harshly, Commander. I did mention a solution.” He passed Cullen the leather bag. “This is a blend of Felandaris and Prophet's Laurel. I have used Elfroot as a base. It should temper some of the effects of the withdrawal. It will taste awful, so perhaps it is best washed down with something from the cellar.”

“You made this?” Cullen fingered the bag, doubtfully. “This will keep my head clear?”

“ For a time. I am not practiced at this, but my research has shown that this could be of benefit. I may need to change the potency at a later stage. But it certainly will not harm you to try it.”

“I understand if you want me to step down.” The Commander said. 

Lucian shook his head. “At this point, you are the best person for the job. Try out the potion and keep me updated.”

Cullen was silent for a moment. “Thank you for your faith in me, Inquisitor. I will do what is right. If I feel I can no longer lead the troops, I will pass the responsibility to Cassandra.”

“Take a vial when necessary. There are 10 there. I will ensure there will be more for you as you need.” Lucian gave Cullen a pat on one shoulder. “ Now, please rest. I will see you in the war room at first light.”

Cullen stood, looking like he wanted to say more. But the words didn't come, so he turned and walked away, his hands still playing absently with the pouch.

Lucian’s hands began the automatic ritual of packing away the leftover herbs and vials. He hoped he had made the right choice getting involved in Cullen’s personal struggles. It was hard to define where the line was with different people and Lucian had overstepped it a number of times.

“There you are!” Dorian sauntered in, kicking the door closed behind him. “We need to talk, you and I.”

Lucian raised a brow. “Is there a problem?”

“I just wanted to thank you for Redcliffe. I was too stubborn to admit it at the time, but I needed it to happen.” Dorian rested a hip against the edge of the table and wrinkled his nose. “Have you been trying to replicate the scent of mabari shit? I daresay you have succeeded!”

Without thought, Lucian gave Dorian a playful push. “You should have smelled my last batch. It could fell entire armies!” He stood, his bare feet curling at the cold stone. “For the record, you don't need to thank me for anything.”

Dorian’s hand touched the spot where Lucian had touched his arm. “Surely you expect something in return? I am not above favors.”

There it was. The flirtatious tone had returned. Perhaps time to respond in kind.

“Favors, you say? I will remember that.” Lucian took enjoyment from seeing Dorian’s barely contained surprise. “I need a beer. Can I get you a glass of wine? Josephine told me of some Orlesian stock that arrived.”

“ Did it arrive with the nobles I see loitering everywhere? Who are those people, anyway?” Dorian paused, his eyes skimming over Lucian consideringly. “Let's go. I am curious to see if the Bard has written a song about me yet.”

A real laugh burst out from Lucian. “ How would it go, pray tell?”

“‘With looks fabled across the land,  
Dorian is one handsome man…”

As they walked, Lucian contributed a verse of his own, adding in a clapping beat.

“Though it probably should be said,  
He has a really big, fat head!”

Dorian didn't even bother look offended. “Perhaps it’s better if we leave this to the bard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to have a plot! Watch this space!


	6. Wimples and Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get interesting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to Withah for the editing help!

Dorian was anxious for a bath. They had just arrived back at Skyhold from an eventful trip to the Storm Coast. It was not one of his favorite places to go. Dorian was a man who prefered drier climes. But when the Inquisitor calls, he must follow.

He made his way to his quarters, located along one of the parapets, when he was intercepted by Mother Giselle. The woman looked flustered and was fiddling needlessly with her wimple. “Dorian, if I may have a word?”

Well, that couldn’t be good. Dorian had a fair idea of Mother Giselle’s feelings regarding his being part of the Inquisition. He had caught her stern glances of disapproval more than once. Like she was smelling something unpleasant but was too polite to say it.

“Of course, Revered Mother.” Dorian forced a polite smile. 

“It is my belief that you are spending a lot of time socially with the Inquisitor. Are you sure this is wise?” Mother Giselle told him.

Dorian folded his arms. “And why wouldn't it be? Worried about my Tevinter roots tainting his virtuous image?”

“You must know how it must look, Dorian. Your reputation does precedes you. The rumours have already started. It would not do for you to have any undue influence over him. ”

“Rumours? Are they scandalous?” Lucian appeared from the other side of the rampart. It was clear that he had been listening to the conversation from his narrowed eyebrows. Dorian suddenly saw the man who inspired so many different factions to join his cause instead of his friend.

Mother Giselle fumbled over her next words. “Ah… Inquisitor. A pleasure to see you. They are just rumours. But someone in your position should not be spoken about in such a way.”

“And you chose to discuss this with Dorian rather than speaking with me? I am rather disappointed. Is this a personal concern or is it something that has been discussed with other Chantry members?” Lucian stood beside Dorian, his shoulders squared despite the fatigue shadowing his face.

“I am not the only one who is concerned. But, I see this has been a mistake.” Mother Giselle cast them both a simpering smile.

Dorian narrowed his eyes. “It seems I will never be rid of my past. Thank you for making that so abundantly clear.”

“I suggest the Chantry focuses on more important matters. Surely my personal life cannot be all the captivating. Do you not agree, Revered Mother?” Lucian tipped his head toward her dismissively.

With a stiff bow, Mother Giselle gathered her skirts and strode off. 

Lucian turned to Dorian, the breeze from the mountains ruffling his fringe. “Are you ok?”

His stomach was knotted in anger. “What a meddling bitch. What right does she have to say any of that?” Dorian sighed. “I suppose her religion blinds her to my many magnificent qualities.”

“I am glad I was here,” Lucian said. “And, as I am not blind to your magnificent qualities, I suggest you ignore her. And whatever rumours you hear floating around.”

Dorian’s heart gave a small stutter. “The rumours don’t bother you?”

“There is so much going on around us. So many people who want things from me. People who do not give two shits what I want or think. Sometimes, I feel like a pawn more than anything else. But I can decide who I call my friend.”

Friend. It was hard to keep his face neutral, but Dorian forced out a chuckle. “You have excellent taste.”

Lucian seemed to get distracted for a moment. His gaze shifted to the mountains. “I can also decide who is more than a friend. If such wishes are reciprocated, of course.”

The silence settled between them while Dorian’s mind frantically processed things. Lucian held eye contact, his expression serious. His fingers brushed against Dorian’s. A silent question.

“Are you proposing we really give them something to talk about?” Dorian turned his palm outwards, letting Lucian’s fingertips trace along his skin. It was getting harder to think coherently.

A corner of Lucian’s mouth lifted. “That was why I came to find you. I am tired of all this self-denial.”

“Has my magnetic charm finally won you over? I was wondering how long it would take.” Dorian moved closer. Close enough to catch the scent of wilderness coming off Lucian.

“Stop asking me questions, you ridiculous man.” Lucian closed the last bit of distance, his lips brushing Dorian’s in an exploratory kiss.

It was like the world stopped around them. Dorian had heard that expression before, but never connected it to any moments before this one. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he had a few days of travel on him or that Lucian was equally filthy.

When Lucian pulled away, the world shifted back into focus and Dorian had to place a hand on the other man’s chest for a moment. “Should we…” he nodded in the direction of his quarters and trailed his hand down Lucian’s chest.

A mild blush tinted Lucian’s fair skin. “No. No, these things should not be rushed.”

“You tease.” Dorian pouted. 

“Good things come to those who wait. Besides, I am a traditional man and would prefer to do things properly.”

Dorian grinned. “I will not say no to being wined and dined, Lucian. You know I enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

“And I yours.” Lucian touched Dorian’s face and gave him a lingering look before walking off, leaving Dorian feeling thoroughly unsatisfied.


End file.
